Seth hadn’t spent an entire night with me since our first night at the University. And while I knew I shouldn’t be affected by his absence and I understood there was no reason for us to keep sharing a bed, I missed it, especially after he left in the evenings.

Another torturous ritual had begun after the first night of training, when Seth had given me that downright frustrating backrub. Every night since then, barring the random days off, after I ate dinner and then showered, Seth would show up with the jar that seemed to be bottomless.

We would chat for a little while, sometimes talking about nothing important, like what character we thought would be the last man standing on The Walking Dead or who was the better Winchester brother. Other times, the conversations ran deeper. He’d talk a little more about his mother and how beautiful she was, and what it was like to be shipped off to a school in a remote land. And I would tell him what was like to spend my summers on the lake and how lonely it was during the school year. Then I would lie on my belly with my shirt tucked under my breasts and Seth would apply the ointment, and when that ointment was gone from the slightly rough fingertips, he didn’t stop. Not right away, at least.

His fingers and hands had mapped out every dip and curve of my back and sides. He was intimately familiar with each small ridge in my spine and the line of my shoulders. His touch… I don’t know if it was because of what he was or because of who he was, it was like lightning in a bottle for my senses. From the moment he’d touch me, my body warmed—liquid heat pooled deep in my core and simmered in my veins. My breathing became more shallow with each passing moment and a different kind of ache invaded my body.

I was totally aware of how my body responded, how my hips would twitch and how I’d press my legs together to try to elevate the tension building. And he had to have known what he was doing to me, the state he was leaving me in.

And he did leave every night, and I had no idea where he went. Back to his room? Out somewhere on the campus? Because I knew there were parties. I heard Deacon talking about them. I couldn’t imagine that he was spending every night by himself, especially since I also knew he was just as affected by the nightly rub-down as I was. When he’d stand to leave, I could see how affected he was. He wanted me, but he didn’t act on it, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant he was acting on it elsewhere.

Sometimes he brushed my hair back from my face before he left. Other times his hands just lingered on my hips when he stood. Last night he had kissed my cheek, but he’d still left.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Deacon commented, drawing my attention to where he sat across from me. We’d broken for lunch, and Seth had gone off wherever he went. I grabbed a quick sandwich with the boys in the cafeteria. “Do I need to get you a pillow?”

I smiled tiredly. I hadn’t been sleeping well, partly due to thinking about things I didn’t want to think about. Like my grandparents. Like my missing mom. Like how much I missed Erin. And like how much I sucked at training.

And the fact Seth had my body wrung so tight I felt like I was going to snap didn’t help.

“I’m good.” I picked a huge slice of tomato off my sandwich.

Luke finished off his mammoth bottle of water. “How was this morning?”

“Still working on defensive blocks—punches and kicks.” I sat back, sighing. “I still suck.”

He frowned. “Josie, you don’t suck. You’re doing great, and I don’t think you understand how long we’ve been training. We make it seem easy, only because we’ve been doing this stuff since we were eight, but we know it’s not. We know—”

Someone shouted behind us, and Luke twisted in his seat. I saw Deacon’s eyes widen, so I cautiously turned around.

A tall guy with black hair and olive skin was facing off with another dude, who wasn’t as tall, but definitely broader.

“What did you say to me?” Black-Haired Guy demanded, bright green eyes flashing.

Shorter Dude cocked his chin up. “I said, fuck you. And I’ll say it one more time and I’ll add onto it. Fuck you, you fucking Hematoi. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not, so fuck off.”

“Hematoi?” I searched my memory for that word, finding nothing.

“Means pure-blood,” Deacon answered quietly. “This isn’t good.”

Luke pushed back from the table. “Nope.”

A loose group was starting to form around the two guys, and the Sentinels at the other end of the cafeteria started toward them.

“I’ll say it again for you, too. Your kind doesn’t belong here.” Black-Haired Guy raised a hand. “Yeah, so fuck this.”

Shorter Dude lifted off his feet as if an invisible wrecking ball had slammed into his stomach. He was knocked back several feet, into a few of the guys crowding around him. The pure had to have been using the air element. Shorter Dude gained his balance easily, and then lurched forward, a large arm cocking back to land a powerful strike.

“Shit,” Luke muttered, standing.

“Stop,” Black-Haired Guy commanded, his voice moving like a ripple over the cafeteria, and holy crap, the Shorter Dude drew up short and stopped, arm frozen in midair. A sneer formed on the pure’s lip. “Go to the top of the tallest building you can find, and then jump out the window.”

My brows flew up, because that had to be the lamest comeback in history and I expected better from a descendant of a mythological creature, but then Shorter Dude spun around and started walking off. Unease churned in my stomach as I watched him cross the cafeteria.